Evolution, a Spencer Reid/Criminal Minds Fanfic

Chapter 28. Bait

“So…Anastasia, is it?” Dr. Bescardi made a show of checking the name at the top of the personal information form her new patient had filled out. “An unusual name. Not one you see often.”

“You can call me Ana, if you want.” Ana was beginning to understand Reid’s concern. She could feel very unpleasant emanations coming from the good doctor. She thought about how she would describe it to Spencer when she called him later that evening. Like quivering jelly composed of sweaty eagerness and anxiety. She wants him so much. And she’s afraid of scaring me off. She wants me to like her. To stay.

The only conclusion Ana could make was that somehow Dr. Bescardi either knew about the growing relationship between her and Spencer, or hoped to foster one. Either way, Ana didn’t like the desperation underlying Bescardi’s studied, casual façade. Desperate people frequently did the most unsavory things. As the conversation continued and Ana described her childhood, she felt the urge to run her hands down the length of her own arms. Bescardi’s greed was so strong, Ana could swear it was leaping the distance between them and leaving a slimy film wherever her skin was exposed.

“So even as a child you could…sense?...what others were feeling? Or could you tell what they were thinking?” Bescardi leaned forward, adopting the stance of a benevolent benefactor whose sole wish was to guide her less-informed subject through the maze of paranormal possibilities. She wanted to give the girl the impression that she’d be hopelessly lost unless someone as wise and experienced as Bescardi helped her. “Think carefully, Ana. There’s a great difference between one’s feelings and one’s thoughts. It’s an entirely different talent, you know.”

Ana hid her disgust at being patronized by ducking her head, taking refuge behind the shield of her hair for a moment. She really did want to be tested. And there weren’t many places that could provide that service. Regaining her composure, Ana decided to hurry this interview along. She felt there was something to be gained in the clinic, but it didn’t include being treated like an imbecile by an examiner who clearly possessed no psychic gifts whatsoever. If she did, she’d realize how counterproductive her methods are.

“Dr. Bescardi?” Ana looked up and kept her tone ingratiating…sweet, even.

“Yes, dear?”

She really is overdoing the maternal bit. “I’m no expert, of course, but maybe your tests would provide better answers than my trying to dredge up childhood memories?” Ana gave a tremulous smile, playing to the doctor’s sense of superiority.

Carol Bescardi sat back and considered her subject.

The girl was smart. No doubt about that. Bescardi couldn’t imagine an intellect like Dr. Reid’s being attracted to anything less. She didn’t think the girl was telepathic, but there was a good chance she was an empath. Bescardi sighed. She didn’t care much for empaths. Soft, sentimental creatures who were easily distracted from any worthy goal by their concern for others’ feelings. Weaklings. And Empaths were hard to pin down. So much of what they gleaned with their special abilities could also be accomplished by someone who was adept at interpreting body language and the nuances of speech. Somewhat like the profiling engaged in by Dr. Reid’s department of the FBI. But if Spencer Reid had forged a connection with this subject, she could be useful.

The trick is to establish rapport and use lesser specimen number 2 to ensnare greater specimen number 1. Bescardi immediately reminded herself to watch her thoughts. Until she was positive specimen number 2…Ana, she forced herself to acknowledge the name…lacked telepathic abilities, she’d do well to conceal her zeal. And the sooner they tested this subject…Ana!...the better Bescardi would know how to use her.

The doctor stretched her thickly glossed lips in a smile. “You’re right, of course.” She stood and gestured, arm extended, inviting Ana to accompany her to the lab where a barrage of exams waited to define just what kind of mind this specimen…Ana!...possessed.

xxxxxxx

The last time Reid had flown from New York to Quantico, he’d been depressed, scared, and ready to run and hide for the rest of his life. If Hotch hadn’t met him, easing his fears and sense of freakishness by laying out a battle plan for integrating him back into the team, Reid couldn’t imagine where he’d be.

This time, everything was different.

Reid exited the plane with a smile, with energy and hope that he knew were directly connected to Anastasia Kassandra-with-a-K Ashcroft. He didn’t want to go home. He felt too effervescent, too…happy…to call it a day. He decided to drop by the BAU. Odds were most of the team would still be there, either engaged in the never-ending paperwork, or providing consulting services to local law enforcement agencies across the nation; an activity that generated even more reams of paperwork.

xxxxxxx

When Rossi had shown up earlier in the day without Reid, everyone except Hotch, who’d given permission for the young doctor to extend his New York sojourn by a few hours, was curious about his absence.

“He’ll be back later. There was some lecture thing he wanted to hear.”

Morgan had shaken his head, once again unable to share the interests his friend had. “I dunno, Rossi. If I had an afternoon off in a city like New York, I could think of a hundred better things to do with my time.”

“Yeeeeaaahhh.” Prentiss’ drawl usually presaged all too accurate observations. “It is the ‘city that never sleeps.’ Probably all kinds of 24-hour bars and strip clubs, right, Morgan?”

“You know it.” He gave his partner a lascivious grin that underlined his complete lack of shame for his favorite pursuit. “At least I’d come back with a bounce in my step and a smile on my face.”

“Not to mention hung-over.” Prentiss turned back to her work. As much as she teased Morgan, her tastes ran along similar lines. She couldn’t imagine herself devoting precious free time to higher learning. Not unless it was in the company of an extremely attractive, ripped male.

So when Reid arrived several hours later, beaming, Morgan was sure he hadn’t spent the day in a stuffy lecture hall.

He crafted a plan to discover Reid’s true activities carefully, with subtle wordplay.

“Yo!! Pretty Boy! There’s no lecture in the world that can make a man smile like that. C’mon…what’s her name?”

And for the first time in years of teasing suffered at the hands of his colleague, Reid enjoyed delivering an answer that produced a very satisfying look of shock on Morgan’s face and rendered the rest of the team silent.

“Her name is Anastasia. But when you meet her, you can call her ‘Ana.’”

The silence didn’t last for long. Morgan’s expression shifted from disbelief to delight.

“Seriously? You met a girl?”

“Seriously. I met a girl.” Reid took a seat at his desk and pretended to bury himself in the contents of his in-box.

Further inquiries were discouraged with an uncontainable grin and comments like “Don’t you have work to do?” and “I’ll talk about her when I’m ready,” or the ever-popular “Please, Morgan, I’m busy.”

 Rossi, Hotch and J.J. watched from the catwalk as Reid tormented his teammate.

“I wonder who she is.” J.J. had shared Morgan’s concern that Reid might never find a suitable companion.

“We could always call him up here. Make it a direct order to tell.” Hotch wore one of his very rare half-smiles.

“Nah.” Rossi folded his arms and settled himself to watch the comedy-drama in the bullpen. “This is too much fun. Five bucks says Reid goes home without telling Morgan anything more. Any takers?”

The other two shook their heads. It never paid to bet on human behavior when a profiler was laying the odds.